


it don't have to be lonely being alone

by oculeius



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, And so does Cassian, Bodhi has a crush, Gen, Life Day (Star Wars), M/M, POV Bodhi Rook, Post-Rogue One, Post-Star Wars: A New Hope, Pre-Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 06:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28347030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oculeius/pseuds/oculeius
Summary: “I don’t know. Just seems like a lot of trouble to go through,” he mutters. “All this work to forget how lonely we really are.”Or Bodhi Rook Celebrates Life Day For The First Time And Tries Desperately To Keep Up With His Rabid Friends
Relationships: Bodhi Rook & Everyone, Bodhi Rook & Luke Skywalker, Bodhi Rook/Stordan Tonc, Cassian Andor & Jyn Erso & Chirrut Îmwe & Baze Malbus & Bodhi Rook, Cassian Andor/Han Solo, Chirrut Îmwe/Baze Malbus, Jyn Erso & Bodhi Rook, Rogue One/Other(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	it don't have to be lonely being alone

**Author's Note:**

> there's nothing like a compulsive fic inspired by a viral tweet AM I RIGHT LADIES
> 
> hi allll and happy holidays! i came across this tweet last week about a muslim guy documenting his findings about christmas because he's stuck with his roommates and can't go home ;-; and naturally like all things i was like "how can i make this about bodhi"
> 
> this is the result and if it's a mess? that's okay i didn't read through it too many times, just some good holiday fun because i mISS rogue one and i wanted to think about how they would get weird over the sw equivalent of christmas - and i hope you all enjoy!

Bodhi knows absolutely kriff-all about Life Day when he and the Rebel Alliance settle into Hoth for the planet’s inappropriately-titled summer. He doesn’t think much about the little holographic tree that announces itself months later in the center of the hangar until it’s too late. After all on Jedha they — he and his family, and everyone else and their families — had their _own_ festival. Life Day is traditionally a Kashyykian thing: the first fact he learns about the holiday against his will, and certainly not the last. 

He’s just come out of a meeting with Draven and the Princess — they’d needed him to piece together the last bit of an encrypted Imperial message Cassian had intercepted — and thinks he might finally be home free — there’s enough daylight for him to _maybe, just maybe_ catch Skywalker for a little impromptu x-wing lesson — when he hears it. The sound of Han Solo arguing with Chewbacca, a familiar fixture on the base. The Wookiee’s disgruntled roars blend almost seamlessly with Solo’s own voice as he yells over his copilot’s complaints, and it’s only as Bodhi tries to skirt past that he can get a coherent snatch of the conversation.

“I _know_ I promised,” Han crows, one hand on his hip and the other propped up against the _Falcon_ as he squares off with Chewie. Han’s voice dips low now that the Wookie is _listening_ and not arguing. “But that was last year; obviously a lot’s changed since then. Hell, I don’t even think we can get _off_ this frozen rock in time to make it—”

That sends Chewbacca into another tirade. 

Bodhi walks faster, spurred on by the hopeful glint of an orange flight suit on the other side of the hangar, a shock of tawny golden hair, the light at the end of the tunnel — but he can still hear Han’s rebuttals—

“Kashyyk will still kriffing _be there_ in another three years—”

 _You don’t know that_ , Bodhi thinks to himself, remembering the weapon they had managed to destroy, but not before Jedha and Alderaan, in turn, were smashed to stardust. He remembers the shuddering of Jedha, _feels_ the sand shift and crack beneath his feet and suddenly three years have conflated and he is back in that cell, Cassian’s hand reaching through the bars of Saw Guerrera’s prison to clasp around his shoulder— he’s standing at the edge of Guerrera’s fortress, wind whipping through his hair and his flight suit as the horizon bends and curls like a _wave_ to crush them all—

Chewbacca seems to echo this sentiment with an anxious grumble, and that alone tempts Bodhi to sneak a glance over his shoulder. 

The Wookiee’s head is slumped dejectedly as Han sidles over. “I’m sorry pal. But ‘till the General gives us the all clear—”

Bodhi turns his head abruptly away and jogs up to Luke Skywalker, determined not to worry too much about the _Falcon_ crew’s conflict.

“Solo was supposed to take Chewbacca to Kashyyk for their Life Day celebration,” Cassian says later, when Bodhi catches up with his team in the mess for supper. 

He doesn’t remember asking, having been so focused on eating, but when he looks up and catches the way Jyn and Chirrut are leaning in so attentively he realizes he must have missed an important shift in conversation.

“That would prove difficult,” Kaytoo remarks. He’s refused to join them at the table and instead has opted to stand, his hulking body casting a long shadow over Bodhi’s tray. “Kashyyk remains under Imperial occupation.”

“Han would bluff his way through, I’m sure,” Jyn counters. “Find a way.”

“I’m sure he was banking on that,” Cassian says. “But since running into that bounty hunter of Ord Mantell I think he’s gone a little skittish. He’s not exactly game to take another big risk like that.”

Bodhi looks thoughtfully down at his food when Kay shifts his weight and makes it easier to see what he’s actually eating. He misses Cassian’s food, but rations are in short supply now that they all seem to be stuck on Echo Base and even Cassian has been grounded. 

“You sure know a lot about Solo, Cassian,” he observes, trying to keep his voice level and demure as he glances up at him through his eyelashes— a new trick he’s learned from Luke.

Jyn takes a big swig of ale to hide the smirk tugging at her lips, glancing out of the corner of her eye at Cassian’s gobsmacked face. Bodhi expected Chirrut, at least, to laugh; it seems that three years was exactly enough time for the monk’s sense of humor to wane. But Bodhi can see a glint of that old mischief in his eyes. Maybe he’s still not used to the cold. He’s stopped complaining about how it feels on his joints, how he can barely move the way he used to, how much better it was on Yavin, but still—

“Maybe if you paid more attention during the debriefs,” Cassian mutters, face hardening like a shield to protect his secrets.

“No one but _you_ is paying attention during the debriefs,” Baze quips. 

At that, Chirrut gives up a chuckle.

Kaytoo starts to pace around the table, his incredibly unsubtle way of hinting that he’s ready to _leave_. 

Jyn stacks her tray atop Cassian’s. 

He glares at her. “I wasn’t finished.” 

But he was; he hadn’t touched his food in about seven minutes. Kay comments as much.

Bodhi stacks his own tray on top of Jyn’s, and Cassian moves to comment—

“We should do something here,” Jyn says preemptively, still keeping a watchful eye on Cassian. “On the base, for Life Day.”

Bodhi knows absolutely kriff-all about Life Day. After all on Jedha they had their own festival. He fights the tug of a memory, his mother and his sisters gathered at the window to watch a procession of pilgrims make their way to the Jedi Temple, adorned with lanterns, accepting sweets and little baskets of bread from children standing off the dirt road. 

Bodhi tries to remember the _name_ of the damn thing, working his brain the best he can without slipping into a pocket of the past he’s yet to unlock. Maybe later he will ask Chirrut — but he seems quieter than usual, and Bodhi isn’t one to think about energy or the force of others or anything but… even just sitting _next_ to Chirrut he feels that something is off—

“I remember some of the traditions from when we used to celebrate on Coruscant,” Jyn says later, when it’s just him and her and Cassian. “Maybe if enough people want to…”

Jyn is uncharacteristically hesitant as she waits for Bodhi or Cassian to respond. It isn’t until later, until Jyn gets almost the entire base involved in preparation for the holiday, that Bodhi understands. 

Life Day is not just an exchange of gifts or a good meal or any number of the harmless, passive rumors Bodhi had heard over the course of his life. Life Day, Bodhi begins to realize, is a full-time fucking job, the highest priority for the Rebel Alliance. 

What were once maintenance shifts now have been dedicated to decorating any surface of the base not already crusted with snow or ice. And it’s not just for Chewbacca anymore. Soon the entire base is in on the preparations.

Bodhi tries to keep out of the way. He _tries_ to mind his business on his days off. But he can’t even sleep in for a few extra hours before Jyn or Kaytoo are pounding on his door or Tonc is shaking him out of his bunk, dragging him into the mess to help set up lights and lanterns.

There’s no shortage of sweets to go around, however, and as consolation a figda or a truffle always manages to find its way into his hands after a hard day of interior design. Bodhi starts to think the celebration might not be so bad, if he had more chances to just _relax_ with Tonc in the mess or with Luke on the ladder of his x-wing, sharing a plate of sweet bread with the pilot, swapping stories, commiserating over old injuries.

But Luke still has training — it takes Baze loping over, an unmistakable fatigue in his gait, to remind him that Chirrut is waiting for him in the gym.

“Oh, blast it all,” Luke cries, sounding genuinely sorry as he shoves the plate of bread into Bodhi’s arms and starts to scramble out of his flight suit. He takes off running, nearly slipping on an icy patch of pavement — and Baze’s laugh sounds more like a grunt but Bodhi can see him smiling.

“You getting Chirrut a Life Day present?” Bodhi asks the Guardian, offering him the plate of bread in the hopes that he will stay and keep him company. There’s something about the cold — about this new, unfamiliar place, being grounded and bored even with the flurry and hysteria of Life Day coming in hot like a u-wing in a snowstorm — that makes Bodhi so lonely. Everyone on base seems to _love_ pairing themselves up — mixing and matching so often Bodhi can hardly keep track of who’s gotten with whom, so he tries to take advantage of any one-on-one time he can get with any member of his team.

Baze leans against the ladder with a weary sigh, his weight causing the rickety little thing to shudder. Bodhi grabs onto a rung with his free hand, stares down at Baze with wide eyes as he takes nearly half the bread and starts to shovel it into his mouth. 

“I think he doesn’t want one,” he grumbles. “He’s never really liked Life Day.” 

Bodhi watches the wrinkles bordering Baze’s eyes fold in on each other as he squints out into the distance. “Too many memories.”

Bodhi could never imagine Chirrut Imwe to dislike anything, but he’s scared to pry for more. He just hums in understanding, the vibration zinging through his clenched jaw, and watches Baze finish off the bread. This new rationing system has turned them all into beggars.

Fortunately Life Day seems to soften Draven. He sets Cassian free for a _modest_ mission off-world and he takes Bodhi. On record it’s because of his familiarity with Imperial codes — most of which they _still_ refused to change, despite the growing amount of defectors the Rebellion gains each day. But once Bodhi calculates the jump Cassian leans in _close_ like there could be anyone else stowed away on their ship, a bug planted on his jacket or something—

“I need you to pick up a few things at whatever market you can find,” Cassian murmurs, eyes flashing with the importance of this clandestine little responsibility.

If there is one thing Bodhi expected to be so important for Life Day festivities, it wasn’t food. 

But Cassian and Jyn get into a row when they return to base and Cassian tries to cook a Core World dish he’d picked up from one of his many undercover assignments.

“I’m just trying to show you—”

“I don’t _need_ you to show me,” Cassian barks out, expression looking all the more menacing beneath the shadow of their freighter. He stands protectively above his little makeshift hot pot, the fire casting an even eerier shadow beneath his sharp jaw. But with Jyn, Cassian is all bark and everyone knows it. She scoffs and tries to jostle him. 

It isn’t long before Han saunters by, casting a sidelong glance at the chaos. Cassian catches him looking just as Han’s face splits under the weight of his trademark smirk, and for a minute he buckles under the force of Jyn’s elbow when he throws it into his stomach.

“You forget the glockaw sauce or somethin’, Andor?”

Bodhi peeks up from his datapad to watch Solo slide his hands over the belt sitting low on his hips, stance spread wide like he’s just run into a bounty hunter and needs to shoot his way out. Something flashes in Cassian’s eyes at the sight of Han; Bodhi doesn’t think he’s seen him so caught off guard since—

“He’s got it,” Jyn answers for him, “But he’s not added enough.”

Han takes a look. Shrugs. “Seems like the right proportions to me.” He tilts his eyes up at Cassian, offering a more genuine smile. Then he starts to back away, like the smuggler always does when he seems to think he’s not welcome—

“Do you want to stay?” Bodhi hears himself asking before he’s even registered the thought as his own. By then everyone’s eyes are on him, and the nerves send more words tumbling out— “For dinner. Obviously. There’s more than enough, isn’t there, Cassian?”

Cassian looks only mildly put out, but Bodhi knows him better than he thinks. He knows that rabid little glimmer of hope in his eyes like nothing else.

It had been three years since Scarif and nothing had happened between Cassian and Jyn. Not like everyone thought it would. Maybe one day, another time, when there was no war in the way — but they seemed to be the only two on Echo Base with that staunch sort of sensibility, that unflappable dedication to the cause. Besides, if Cassian was so dedicated to the work, _to the cause_ , he wouldn’t mind sharing his meal with Han Solo, hero of the Rebellion.

Bodhi wonders how much of that goes through Cassian’s mind in the time it takes him to take a deep breath and nod in agreement. “You’re welcome to invite Chewbacca as well,” he adds, managing a smile in Han’s direction.

Bodhi watches Jyn carefully after Han heads for the _Falcon_ to extend the invitation to his co-pilot. The last thing Bodhi wants is to step on any toes. But Jyn doesn’t seem fazed — then again, when has she ever — and Bodhi starts to think that maybe it’s alright. Maybe she and Cassian have already discussed things. Come to some sort of agreement. 

Bodhi finds her later, after dinner, polishing her blaster under the light of a lantern. He tries to make sure his footfalls are deliberate and loud, driving his boots into the crunchy snow so she knows he’s coming.

But still Jyn sounds surprised when he comes to stand beside her: she jumps and goes tense for a split second, before wiping her face and turning to smile up at him. “Bodhi,” she whispers, hand clenched around her rag.

“What’s wrong?” he whispers, trying not to slip on any ice as he kneels down to her level. “I overstepped, didn’t I, at dinner? I’m sorry but I’d just thought you and Cassian—”

“It’s not that,” Jyn cuts in gently. “I was just thinking.”

Bodhi settles in, presses closer so their shoulders are touching, his way of saying _I’m here. I’m listening_. She leans into him and sighs, weighing the blaster in her right hand.

“My mother had this same blaster,” she muses. “Just… just got me thinking. About old times.”

“Oh,” he replies softly, venturing a glance at Jyn.

“I don’t think she liked Coruscant very much,” Jyn continues. “But she loved Life Day. Always tried to make it fun for me. For us.” 

She sighs, almost tosses her head. “Just thinking about her,” she repeats, voice warm despite the tight lines framing her frowning mouth. Jyn is still so young — closer to Luke Skywalker’s age than Bodhi’s — but in certain light it’s almost harrowing how old she must look. She’d lived a hard life, but at least she was determined to keep _on_ living—

He finds himself agonizing completely over what he could possibly do giftwise for his friends, for his team. It’s impossible to go anywhere now, with Echo Base in the midst of a particularly garish storm. All Bodhi can offer is, perhaps, an engine tweak or two, which doesn’t seem like enough compared to the constant shower of sweets they’ve bombarded him with. But no one seems to want anything. Nothing _big_ anyway, nothing they’ll have to worry about reciprocating.

Tonc just shrugs when Bodhi tries to ask what he should get him. “It’s fine, Bodhi,” he mutters, face turned away as he changes into a clean shirt on the other side of their shared room. Bodhi lays in his bunk, already dressed for bed, and tries not to stare at the two shallow lines on the small of Tonc’s back.

“You’re sure?” He wishes his voice sounded more commanding, more firm, more like his bunkmate’s—

“I’m sure!” He smiles at the sound of Tonc’s laugh, latching onto _that_ feeling and ignoring the disappointment lurching his stomach when Tonc is fully clothed again. “Gifts are in short supply now anyway. All that matters is we’re together.”

 _Together_ — Bodhi turns onto his back in the hopes that Tonc will not see him blushing. 

“Uhmm…” he wets his lips. “Us?”

“Sure,” Tonc says, and Bodhi doesn’t dare look. “The Alliance, you know? Sure it’s bloody cold but…” Tonc’s bed creaks as he dives into it, and Bodhi can finally breathe. “At least we’ve got a bit of peace for now. No Empire, no battles.”

He hears Tonc sigh. 

“No wounded. No losses.”

Bodhi is beginning to think he might not like Life Day very much. Everyone he knows seems so much sadder, despite the constant distraction of decoration or food or gifts. Everyone is thinking of what they’ve lost. 

He tries to get comfortable, to try and soften the weird lump in his cot with his spine, before he says what’s on his mind.

“Wish I felt the same.”

He hears Tonc shuffle as well, and knows his face is turned to Bodhi now. “What d’you mean?”

“I mean…” Bodhi rubs his eyes, hating how frustrated he’s grown already— “I dunno. Chirrut is sad for some reason. I’ve barely seen him all week. Jyn’s thinking about her mother, and” —Bodhi almost chokes on the name— “a-and Galen. And…” He scoffs. “I don’t know. Just seems like a lot of trouble to go through,” he mutters, nervous fingers playing with the stitch in his shirt. “All this work to forget how lonely we really are.”

Bodhi feels Tonc’s eyes — nearly as large as his but twice as warm — on him through an uncomfortable stretch of silence that leaves him in a sweat despite the chill in their room.

“You’re lonely?” Tonc asks softly, and it’s not the accusatory question Bodhi was bracing himself for. 

He turns to look at Tonc when he’s feeling brave again. “Aren’t you?”

Stordan thinks for a minute, always so honest when he has the power to be. “Not always,” he finally replies with a sympathetic smile. “But I do like to distract myself.”

Bodhi doesn’t know what that means, but he has a feeling and he’s not sure he likes it. He can’t remember the last time he was jealous — maybe when Jyn and Cassian were caught in the throes of their… whatever it was—

“Oh,” he hears himself saying, compelled out of his mouth like he’s been punched in the gut.

Tonc doesn’t pick up on the petty little lilt in Bodhi’s voice, much to his relief. He’s too busy smoothing his hand over his sheets, wrinkles giving way to his slender, gentle hand. “It’s just easier sometimes, to think about happy things when everything in you just wants to dwell on what you’ve lost.” He looks up at Bodhi again. Another smile. “And we’ve all lost things, Bodhi. That’s why we’re here.”

Suddenly Bodhi feels like a child. He feels his cheeks burning again and he forces out another sigh, fighting the urge to turn away. “But it doesn’t mean we’ve got to be lonely,” Stordan adds.

“Guess you’re right,” Bodhi whispers, and tries to relax again. “Maybe if I… I don’t know, maybe all these silly little traditions aren’t… aren’t _so_ bad—”

Tonc laughs _hard_ at that— “I won’t drag you out of bed to hang lights anymore, if it’d take the pressure off.”

“It might,” Bodhi says archly, drawing another laugh out of his bunkmate. The sound makes him smile, makes the ache in his heart ebb just by a fraction — but it’s enough to help him breathe easier, help him not to fall into a memory he won’t be able to crawl out of.

The two are quiet for a long bit again, but Bodhi’s internal panic has disappeared. He listens for the sound of Tonc breathing, too, thinking he might have fallen asleep— but then—

“I’ve got a tradition you might not hate.” 

Their heat lamp has dimmed enough to let them sleep, so Bodhi can only _just_ make out Stordan’s face in the light. He feels his shoulders tensing again.

“Okay.”

In a flash Tonc is kicking off his cover, turning his back again to rustle through one of his packs. It’s too dark to see what he’s got in his hand when he shuffles over — Bodhi hopes it’s candy—

“Back home,” Tonc whispers, his voice suddenly deeper now he’s trying to keep quiet. He huffs out a laugh, and Bodhi wonders if he’s embarrassed — if Stordan even _could_ be embarrassed— “We had this tree that flowered during Life Day. The elders used to say you take your sweetheart there, and…” 

Only the smell of… of _green_ , of nature, relaxes Bodhi with Tonc kneeling so close to him, sitting at the edge of his bed. He tries to sit up, getting a look at a little twiggish plant, a pink flower blooming at the top. How Tonc has managed to keep it alive, Bodhi can only guess.

Tonc holds the flower between them, not offering it to Bodhi but certainly not taking it back. Bodhi sits up on his elbows now, only vaguely aware of how quick his heart is beating, how clammy his hands feel. Stordan finally reaches forward and lets Bodhi grab hold of the plant, of his hand—

And then he is leaning forward, slowly, so painfully slowly, and before Bodhi knows it they’re kissing. His lips are warm and soft — _so soft_ — and the kiss is warm too, if not firm with affirmation — and Bodhi has to hold his breath to keep a sort of desperate moan from running free.

It’s over too soon, Tonc is pulling away, but he rests his forehead against Bodhi’s and lets the warmth of each other’s breath warm their faces. 

“Erm…” Tonc laughs. It almost sounds like a giggle. “D'you feel... _less_ lonely now?”

And it might be a sudden onrush of Life Day holiday spirit. It might be adrenaline. It might be a desperation for distraction, to keep warm and _occupied_ like everyone else coupled up on Hoth. It could be anything, really. But something _bold_ in Bodhi stirs and he pulls Tonc flush on top of him, kisses him again. 

“I’m starting to.”

**Author's Note:**

> idk where tonc is from but i Know that sweet little boy has a take on mistletoe i just know it


End file.
